I Just Want Your Kiss
by Quarter Past Wonderful
Summary: Malfoys don't fall in love. Potters, on the other hand, do. Oneshot Drarry. Inspired by the song Pumpkin Soup by Kate Nash.


**A/N:** **So ever since listening to the song "Pumpkin Soup" by Kate Nash I've had this little story arc in the back of my head. Finally I found the inspiration and time to sit down and write it, and the result is this. I've never written a one-shot before, and I feel I might just be a little too verbose to accomplish it properly, but I didn't want to turn this into a full-blown story with multiple chapters. I tried to keep in canon, but obviously I had to change some things – like omitting the epilogue and changing Harry and Ginny's relationship. I hope you like it :) It's about two guys, so if that offends you, please don't read. All lyrics belong to Kate Nash; all characters belong to J. K. Rowling.**

**And don't worry – I haven't given up on Clover. I just had this idea bouncing around in my head and I had to capture it. I'll post the next Clover chapter soon, I promise.**

**Dedicated to Potterholic78. I finally wrote it – happy? :D**

* * *

><p><em>...You're chatting to me, like we connect<em>  
><em>But I don't even know if we're still friends<em>  
><em>It's so confusing,<em>  
><em>Understanding you is making me not want to do<em>

_The things that I know I should do_  
><em>But I trip fast and then I lose<em>  
><em>And I hate looking like a fool...<em>

Draco was feeling morose. It was horrid out, a particularly nasty, rainy, and dark April day, and he felt deeply unsatisfied. It was a Saturday, so he had no classes and really nothing better to do than to wander around the castle feeling a restless yearning for an elusive something. He felt apathetic and empty, like a forgotten bottle of guzzled butterbeer. He had been lazing about in the Slytherin common room for a while, but his fellow housemates had begun to irrationally annoy him with their loud laughter and good spirits. And the sound of the rain striking the green-tinted window that had been near his black leather couch had irritated him to no end. The sound of rain usually soothed him, a gentle noise that beckoned to waves of sleep. But that morning the sound had driven him half mad, calling to him to get up and move about, and when Pansy had begun shrieking about nonsense he had finally given in and had left the common room abruptly.

Now he was wandering around listlessly, staring out at the muddy grounds and the shivering trees, torn between wishing it was a proper spring day with sunshine, and wanting to thoroughly enjoy the rain by making some kind of a fort and huddling inside of it, letting his misery wash over him.

He didn't know why he was so unhappy. It wasn't just the rain; all year he had been no better than a hinkypunk, floating around irritably without any real purpose. He should have been happy; the war was over and his family had been excused despite everything that they had done because they had betrayed Voldemort at the last moment. Although they had lost their status and were distrusted by many people, they were free.

Because Hogwarts had been different while Voldemort had taken control of it – harsh punishments and teaching that was inconsistent to what Hogwarts considered standard, as well as the panic that Voldemort had created all year had stunted the effective learning of the students – none of the students of that year had graduated. McGonagall had decided that it would be better if that year was redone by all levels, and all the students were pushed back a year.

So Draco was now back at Hogwarts in his seventh year, something he had not anticipated happening. He would ultimately be graduating and he would actually have a future again, which he had given up on before. And that wasn't the only thing that was different.

All of the houses were closer, and less likely to stay secretive from one another. Students had begun to mingle with other houses, and some even went so far as to sit with their new friends from other houses at meals. Even Slytherin was opening up a little – recently Luna had sat at the Slytherin table, befuddling the other students. She had just sat there, humming happily as she smeared jam on her toast, her raddish earings swinging gaily as they all had stared on. It was as though the students had realized that Dumbledore was right, and that they all had to stand by one another. After almost losing everything, people saw how dear and precious friendship was and how frivolous rivalries were. And Draco could deal with this. He understood what was happening, and could almost accept it. He still had his trademark Malfoy sneer ready and perfect, but he was less likely to use it these days...except, of course, for the Gryffindors. After all, he couldn't be expected to consort with them, now could he? He still had his standards.

But despite it all, Draco was unhappy. He felt tired and confused. All his life he had known his purpose: to be better than everyone else, to serve Voldemort to make his father proud, and to hate Potter. Now he was no better than anyone – in fact, he was looked down on by many – and Voldemort was dead. And he wasn't sure how he felt about Potter anymore. He was grateful, amazed, really, that Potter had saved his life, and he knew that if Potter could have saved Crabbe he would have. Secretly Draco was relieved that Potter had destroyed Voldemort, too, and he knew what a paramount struggle it had been. He was almost in awe. Almost.

But he certainly didn't want to be _friends_ with Potter. Draco had assumed that after they both had returned to school they would just resume their old habits, despite the fact that Draco owed Potter his life. But Potter hadn't complied with this plan. Infuriatingly, and maybe even spitefully on purpose, he had refused to be anything but friendly towards Draco. In the hallways and in classrooms he would be pleasant and smile at Draco, and once, to Draco's disgust, he had even tried to hold a conversation with him.

Draco didn't know what to do with this. He had carefully observed Potter for a time, trying to figure out what Potter was doing, but all he had noticed was Potter's fatigue. The vanquisher of Voldemort seemed exhausted all the time, as well as jumpy, as though he had become unused to such large amounts of people. He seemed to disappear for times, too, as though he longed for solitude. But people wouldn't leave him alone. They always stared at him in the hallway and whispered, sometimes cheering for him, even after months of the war being over.

Draco could sort of relate to this feeling of tiredness and emptiness, he himself feeling like he was floundering now that he didn't know what to do with his life. But he didn't want to empathize with Potter. Right?

But the trouble was Draco thought he might be starting to be okay with Potter's friendliness. Which was a problem. Because if he didn't have his rivalry with Potter, he didn't know where he and Potter stood. It was almost as though Draco couldn't have a normal relationship with Potter. He had to be at an extreme with him – either hating him, or...

Draco couldn't even finish the thought, it was so terrifying. After all, the opposite of hate was... well...

Love.

Draco knew he was gay. He had known since an unfortunate incident in fifth year when Pansy had all but shoved herself at him. It had taken him some time and some more unfortunate incidents with various other girls, but Draco had finally accepted it. Fine. He was gay. Whatever.

But being gay and being attracted to Harry Potter were two different things. Not that he was attracted the Potter. Honestly, the messy hair was just a turn-off. Didn't the boy own a comb? He could defeat Voldemort but he couldn't manage his hair, apparently. And Draco much preferred blue eyes to green eyes.

Honestly.

And after all these years of hating Potter, he certainly couldn't fall in love with him. It wasn't as though one side of passion could just be switched to another – it was illogical to go from hating someone to loving someone.

So Draco had just mooned about all year, in a perpetual bad mood fueled by confusion and denial. And today, a miserable Saturday, was no different.

As he walked along a chilled and damp corridor he spontaneously decided he wanted to feel the rain. He had only seen the stormy day through the castle windows, and if he was going to be cold and damp he might as well be properly so. He gathered his thick cloak around him and went upstairs and out of the front door. Filch, who was lingering around the main entranceway, gave him a suspicious look as though already calculating the amount of mud he would track around the school, but didn't stop him from going outside.

Draco stepped out into the rain and immediately was soaked. Annoyed, he cast a charm that repelled the water, but he still had to deal with his wet cloak and the copious amounts of mud. He couldn't recall the charm that dried off clothes, so he just set off in one direction, the mud squelching around his shoes, feeling stupid for setting off in this horrid weather. He was enjoying the peace, though, and was perversely starting to feel a bit better.

He wandered the grounds for a while, letting his thoughts lazily work through his head. He was just considering the exact shade of Potter's eyes – bottle green? Or perhaps emerald? Lovely Slytherin colored, in any case – idly, of course, it wasn't as though he often pondered Potter's aesthetic details. Or that he cared what he looked like. He just liked assigning specific labels to things, for Merlin's sake.

As Draco made his way over to the tree by the lake he was contemplating going back inside, for despite being fairly dry it still wasn't really pleasant out. He stared at the giant squid for a moment, who seemed to be enjoying the rain, and then he saw a figure out of the corner of his eye. He turned quickly to see who it was, ready to get away if it was someone unpleasant, when he recognized Potter. His stomach gave a funny jolt; from excitement or fear, he couldn't tell. He was debating what to do when Potter looked up and caught Draco's gaze. There was a pause, and then Potter smiled. Almost on reflex, Draco smiled back. Then he immediately scowled. It was too late, though, and Potter approached him.

Draco suddenly couldn't remember why he had been so unhappy. His heart was fluttering and he had to resist the urge to smile like a fool. What was he, a Gryffindor? He managed to scowl more deeply. At this point Potter had waded through a lakeful of muddy grass and was now standing near him under the tree. He didn't say anything, so Draco blurted something out to get rid of the silence.

"Why are you outside, Potter? Don't you know better than to stay out in the rain?" he said, trying to hold a note of contempt in his voice but failing for the most part.

Potter just shrugged, ignoring the unfriendliness. "I don't really feel like being inside today," he said quietly.

Draco at once felt a quiet companionship with Potter, and cursed him for making him feel that way. "Me neither," he said before he could stop himself, and then he frowned. He wasn't going to be friends with Potter. "We're not friends, Potter, you know," he said abruptly, trying to be vicious, but just sounding tired. "I don't know what you think we are, but we're not friends just because you saved my life."

Potter studied him for a moment, his green eyes unusually serious. "I don't know what we are anymore, Draco. But we're not enemies."

The use of Draco's first name quelled Draco's resolve and made his heart beat rapidly. He even felt a little lightheaded. It was the first time Potter had ever used his first name.

Once more Draco's mouth spoke before his brain could register what he was saying. "You called me Draco," he said, and he couldn't quite work the incredulous tone out of his voice. He narrowed his eyes – maybe he could come off as angry.

"Well, it's your name, isn't it?" Potter had an easy smile on his face. It was almost charming. Almost.

"Yes. Yes... Harry, it is." Now Draco was smiling, too, and Harry's smile grew larger in response. Oh, hell to it all. Draco gave up thinking and just began to talk with Harry. It was easy, talking with him, easier than breathing. And for the first time in ages he felt lightweight and happy, almost. Harry looked at ease, too, happier than Draco had observed him in a long time.

Not that he had been watching him, or anything.

_...I'm not in love_  
><em>I just wanna be touched<em>

_I just want your kiss boy, kiss boy, kiss boy_  
><em>I just want your kiss<em>  
><em>I just want your kiss boy, kiss boy, kiss boy<em>  
><em>I just want your kiss...<em>

It wasn't until later, when Draco was warm and drowsing in his bed, that he remembered his resolve not to be friends with Harry. Or...wait. His tired mind grappled with the issue. Wasn't his resolve just not to fall in love with the boy? He snorted. That was easy enough. As if anyone could fall in love with Potter.

But all too clearly Draco remembered how quickly his heart had thudded in his chest whenever he saw Harry, and how his willpower to remain unfriendly towards Harry always seemed to dissolve around him. He couldn't deny it, he found Harry entrancing.

Draco's heart began to beat with terror at this silent confession, but nothing horrendous happened. He wasn't struck with lightning or mauled by wild owls. So he found Harry cute. So what – clearly it wasn't a big deal.

Anyways, it wasn't like he was in _love_ with him. He was a Malfoy: Malfoy's didn't love. Especially not other men. There was nothing wrong with acting on a pure physical attraction and then, having satiated that, getting on with his life. It'd be fine to mess around with Harry, right? Then maybe Draco could move on and stop feeling so miserable. He scowled, thinking it was typical of Harry to make Draco feel so unhappy and confused. Although, hadn't he only felt happy when he was around Harry? It was all too perplexing.

And then there was the trouble with Harry – what if he wasn't into guys? What was Draco supposed to do then? He sighed and turned over on his pillow, his white-blonde hair standing out against the deep emerald sheets. It wouldn't be a problem, he decided. Either Draco – with his dashing good looks and Malfoy charm – could convince Harry he was into guys or he could just get over him. Both would be easy.

He felt slightly amazed at what he was considering, but he pushed away the unreality of it. Draco was tired of being in denial. Fine, so he was into the person who he had once considered his greatest enemy. Attraction worked in mysterious ways. And denying it all year had only made him miserable; Draco was a Malfoy, and Malfoy's didn't like being in misery. So something had to change.

Feeling at peace for once, Draco settled down to sleep with daydreams about green eyes and scarlet ties.

A week or so passed until Draco had a chance to act on his new resolve. Every time Draco saw Harry in the hallway his heart did somersaults. And if he made eye contact with him, Harry would smile, which always left Draco feeling a little breathless. He felt sort of annoyed at himself for acting like a girl, though, and tried to scowl instead of smiling ridiculously like he wanted to.

It was on a Tuesday after dinner that Draco got his chance. He had finished his dinner long ago but hadn't wanted to go back up with Pansy and the rest of his housemates. Pansy had sulked but had let him go, and now Draco was sitting by himself with only a handful of other people from other houses around him. If he was being honest, he was waiting for Harry, whom he hadn't seen all day. Draco just wanted a glimpse of him, and then he could go finish his homework in peace.

Finally Harry wandered in, looking tired and muddy from Quidditch practice. The rest of the Gryffindor team trailed behind him, and Draco, suddenly shy, got ready to leave. Before he could get up though, Harry suddenly walked towards him.

"Er," he said, looking friendly but a little uncertain, "mind if I sit here?"

Draco just nodded, surprised and pleased into silence. Finally he got control of himself and said, sarcastically, "Harry Potter sitting next to Draco Malfoy? What will the masses think?"

Harry just grinned and helped himself to mashed potatoes. "Who cares," he mumbled.

"Eloquent as ever, Potter," teased Draco, but he smiled too.

They talked for a while about unimportant things until long after Harry had finished his meal, which drew a few confused looks. But for the most part people left them alone; stranger things had happened since the end of the war, and besides, people were ready for peace.

Finally Draco stood up, stretching. "I don't know about you," he said, smirking, "but I have an essay to write. Now I know you Gryffindors don't care much about schoolwork..."

Harry rolled his eyes but got up, too. They walked out together in companionable silence and up the empty stairs. There was no one around, to Draco's surprise. Harry clearly felt the same way, for after a minute he said, "I hadn't realized how late it was."

"Everyone's gone to their common rooms," agreed Draco.

They stopped at the top of the stairs, each having to go a separate way to get to their houses. There was an awkward pause, and then Harry said, "Well, good night Draco."

"'Night."

Draco watched Harry disappear down the corridor, feeling as though he was letting a chance slip away from him. He wrestled with himself, his identity, his pride, his desires – and then the latter won out. When would he next have the opportunity?

He sucked in a cheek and then called out, "Potter! Wait!"

Harry turned around, looking surprised. Surely Draco was imagining the look of hope in his eyes? Draco strolled forward, smothering the urge to run. Malfoy's didn't run.

"What, have you decided to become a Gryffindor?" asked Harry, absentmindedly running a hand through his hair in a terribly appealing way. Draco ignored his words and stopped in front of him, suddenly hesitant. What if Harry rejected him? True, he had broken up with Ginny, but that didn't mean he was gay. Draco shifted from one foot to the other.

"What is it, Draco?"

It was Harry's use of his name that gave him the courage. He stepped forward, watching Harry's eyes carefully as they widened in surprise and alarm. But not, he thought, in disgust. He took another step forward, cornering Harry against the wall. Draco put one arm up against the wall, and leaned closer. He was so close he could hear Harry's rapid heartbeat. He waited, hesitant, for a pause, and then Draco captured Harry's lips with his own.

It was a quick kiss, just a pressing of lips together. Draco quickly ended it when he didn't feel a response from Harry. He stepped back and looked away, his heart pounding. Had he just made a dreadful mistake? Before he could apologize he felt a hand grab his shoulder and he looked up into Harry's impatient green eyes. Harry forced his lips onto Draco's, and this time both of them responded with energy. Neither of them had ever kissed like this before and that was obvious but it was still good because there were fireworks exploding and everything was hazy except for Harry's green eyes and the feel of his lips on Draco's –

Draco heard footsteps and he quickly broke off the kiss. A curious student was coming up the staircase, but she vanished quickly into another corridor without a second look at them.

Both of them were panting, and when Draco nervously looked up at Harry he saw he had a huge grin on his face. An answering smile graced Draco's face, and suddenly he couldn't stop beaming and he felt like laughing. Kissing had _never_ felt like that before! Harry gently put a hand out to touch Draco's hair, and then the side of his face, and Draco felt a happy ache in his stomach. He felt like he would melt from happiness.

But the Malfoy in him forced himself to try to become sober. He took a step back and let out a smirk, almost not managing it. "Good night, Potter."

Harry let him get away with it, still smiling happily. "Good night, Draco."

_...The lights are on_  
><em>And someone's home<em>  
><em>I'm not sure if they're alone<em>  
><em>There's someone else inside my head<em>  
><em>Living there too fills me with dread<em>

_This paranoia is distressing_  
><em>But I spend most of my night guessing<em>  
><em>Are we not, are we together<em>  
><em>Will this make our lives much better...<em>

For about a month now Draco and Harry had been sneaking around and seeing each other. Whenever Draco was with Harry he felt free and ridiculously happy. He felt complete, for the first time since he and Harry had been enemies. And he felt like despite his family's reputation, he might have a future. Besides that, he enjoyed spending time with Harry...and the kissing was amazing, on top of it all.

It was afterwards that the problems started. When he was away from Harry, he regained his senses again and started to feel annoyed with himself. Okay, yes, the snogging was nice, but that didn't mean he should lose all of his senses. A Malfoy shouldn't just fall for someone and act like a girl about it. It wasn't like he was in love, or anything: he just enjoyed the hooking up.

But Harry didn't seem to grasp this idea. He was very affectionate towards Draco, and no matter what Draco did to try and distance himself from Harry he tended to get sucked in.

Draco was mulling over everything one evening, swinging from happiness to annoyance, when he looked at the clock and realized it nearly time for a secret rendezvous with Harry. His stomach fluttered, which immediately irritated him. It irked him greatly to think about having to rely on someone for happiness. Nonetheless, he got up and slipped past Pansy, who had stopped questioning his disappearances and vague excuses a few weeks ago, to make his way to the Room of Requirement.

All in all it was an odd place for Harry and Draco to meet up. They had a lot of history already steeped into the walls; it was the place that Harry had saved Draco, and the place where Draco had tried to slip the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Convenience outweighed the emotional baggage, however, and Draco made sure to avoid talking about the past.

He entered the room that had become so familiar to him. It had a dancing fire in the fireplace, a few comfy couches, and long shelves of books that added a posh atmosphere which Draco approved of.

Draco sat on the couch, lounging and staring at the fire, still battling with his emotions while Harry was absent. Finally the door opened, which had the dual effect of snapping him out of his thoughts as well as admitting Harry. Despite Draco's black mood, which was worse than usual because of his perpetual thoughts about what he was doing, he smiled at Harry as he walked in. It was like a reflex; he had to smile whenever Harry was around.

Harry tripped forward with a similar smile on his face, and then leaned forward to kiss Draco. It was just a peck, which made Draco pause. They weren't a light-kiss couple. He didn't want to be kissed hello, he wanted to snog. This wasn't supposed to be personal.

Deep down Draco knew it was personal, far too personal, and that's what made him so nervous. He pushed those thoughts away, though, and instead he pulled Harry's tie, dragging him to the couch next to him. This made Harry laugh and murmur something about Draco's eagerness, but Draco shut him up by pressing his lips against Harry's and settled in for a proper snog.

It didn't last long, though, because Harry broke it off. "Slow down there, love. You're not even going to say hello to me first?" he was smiling easily and charmingly. Some small part of Draco's brain wondered at Harry's charm – he had always seemed like such a bumbling fool. Where had this wonderful suave man come from?

But the rest of Draco's brain was preoccupied and his had blood had run cold. Love? Had Harry just called him love? It seemed like an insignificant pet name, but on the other hand...was that where Harry's mind was?

"What do you mean, Potter?" asked Draco slowly, his smile sliding off his face.

Harry gave him an inquisitive look. "Er, alright then. Forget about saying hello – I don't mind just the snogging."

Draco shook his head angrily. "No – no! Not that. Bloody Merlin, Potter, what do you mean calling me 'love'? Are you mental? What, do you love me or something?" More anger than Draco had intended was coloring his words, but he was scared. And when Draco was scared or confused he used the best defense he had – his words, and his mean streak.

Harry was quiet, and had dropped his hand off of Draco's face, but Draco couldn't stop now that he had started. "What the hell do you think we're doing? We're just snogging. It's not personal. We're not girls! We don't...we're just...it's not like we buy each other flowers or anything. Love has nothing to do with it."

There was silence for a moment, and Harry's face fell. He looked away from Draco, his cheeks burning, and then nodded once. Draco's anger was fading into uncertainty, and he suddenly fiercely regretted saying anything. It was just a stupid pet name. What did it matter?

Before he could say anything Harry stood up without looking at Draco, his face hard and sad. Something fell out of his lap as he stood, but Harry walked out without picking it up or saying anything.

Draco felt crushed – but at the same time a part of him felt satisfied. "Good," the nasty little voice inside his head said.

He looked down to see what had dropped, and to his horror he saw a rose. He picked it up, nicking himself on a thorn, and stared at it. It was beautiful, and Draco felt breathless that Harry had made such a romantic gesture. But another part of him felt disgusted. This was exactly what he had been talking about! He wasn't looking for romance. For Merlin's sake, they weren't girls! He just wanted somebody to snog. Wasn't that enough? Why did Harry have to go and ruin it?

Draco breathed in the rose's scent and stared at the fire, miserably contemplating everything that had gone wrong, and whether or not he even wanted it to go right.

_...Whoops I think I've got too close_  
><em>'Cause now he's telling me I'm girl that he likes most<em>  
><em>Now I messed up it's not the first time<em>  
><em>I'm not saying you're not on my mind<em>  
><em>I hope that you don't think I'm unkind...<em>

They had made up a little bit later that week, both to Draco's relief and consternation. Harry had apologized, saying that they had never talked about their relationship being more than what it was, and that he hadn't realized that showing affection made Draco uncomfortable.

Draco had a feeling that Harry was just humoring him, and he knew the problem was still there. But he was so eager be with Harry again, to feel the touch of his hand and to be kissed by him, that he was just glad that Harry had apologized.

There was less talking, now, though. And although it was what Draco had wanted in the beginning, he was still unhappy. They only met up in the Room of Requirement, and although Harry would smile at Draco in the hallways, he never made an effort to approach him or start a conversation with him.

And neither did Draco.

So Draco spent time admiring the rose he secretly kept in his room and started watching Harry more these days from afar, like he used to. And with a start he realized that he was starting to become jealous of the attention that Harry gave to other people. Whenever he saw Harry talking with another boy – or girl, even – he felt irritated and was likely to lash out at whoever was around him. Usually this was Pansy, and as a result she had started to avoid him as religiously as he used to avoid her.

Realizing that he was jealous of Harry freaked Draco out. He tried to stop himself from, as he saw it, acting like a girl. He would tell himself that it didn't matter to him what Harry did, because Harry didn't even mean that much to him. They just snogged. Nothing personal. Harry could do whatever he liked.

But despite what he told himself, every time he saw Harry with someone else he still felt a green-eyed monster stirring inside of him. Irrationally he felt a desire to be the only one to spend time with Harry, to be near Harry constantly and to hold his hand – but those were all things that girls wanted, and not just regular girls, high maintenance ones, Draco told himself sternly. And he wasn't a girl. He was a Malfoy.

And this was on top of the confusion he already had about his relationship with Harry and his reluctance to be anything personal towards him. These two ideas clashed horribly, and Draco really didn't know what to feel anymore.

It didn't help that Harry and Draco said next to nothing to each other these days. They would meet up, occasionally have some friendly banter, and then just snog.

It was so...impersonal. But Draco told himself that was what he wanted.

Finally it got to the point that Draco couldn't work it all out by himself. He had to talk about it with someone. Surely someone could help him make sense of this mess? If he had another person's perspective he was positive he would know what to do.

He couldn't talk to Pansy, not now that she was avoiding him. Or really any of his Slytherin housemates – who would care? He had never really been the type to make close friends. Slowly it became clear to him that the only one who he could talk to was Harry. Which seemed ridiculous. How could he attempt to have a relationship talk with Harry after the previous fiasco – the one that _he_ had started, because Harry had tried to get a little bit too close?

But he didn't see what else he could do, because he was floundering.

So on another Saturday afternoon, this time when it was windy out instead of rainy, Draco had finally had enough and he left the Slytherin common room and set out to find Harry.

He had a vague notion of where the Gryffindor common room was, and although he didn't have a plan he was just wildly entertaining the notion that he would just wait outside until someone let him in.

Luckily for his reputation, something stopped him before that happened.

He had been walking around, sort of lost, when he saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. At first he thought it was Ron Weasley, and he already felt the first pangs of irritation, but then he realized that the ginger that he was staring at was not Ron, but her sister.

Draco was going to pass her by – after all, being Harry's ex, she was his number one enemy – but before he could continue onward she called out to him, and Draco's good breeding wouldn't let him ignore her, even if she was a Weasley.

"Malfoy!" Ginny said, looking fierce.

"Weasley," he acknowledged, looking at her carefully. He didn't think he'd ever had a real conversation with her, apart from the times when he had made fun of her and her family, or her and Harry's relationship. What on earth could she want?

"I think you and I need to have a talk," she said firmly. And to his utmost surprise, Ginny walked over to him, took him by the arm and led him out of the corridor, down a few staircases and outside to the breezy May afternoon sun.

He was so taken aback he didn't resist. When they were outside Ginny steered him away from the other groups of students and began to walk around the lake with him. She didn't say anything, and finally Draco grew uncomfortable and spoke.

"What do you want?"

She was still silent, and so he stopped and turned to face her.

Ginny sighed and rolled her eyes, then stopped as well. "Don't you have anything you want to talk about?" she prompted. "Maybe something involving, oh, I don't know, you and Harry?"

"What do you know about me and Harry?" he asked suspiciously, his pulse beginning to quicken. Surely Harry hadn't told her.

"Keep your pants on. Merlin, Harry's right, you _are _prickly."

He glared at her, and she smiled. "You're cute when you're angry. I can see why Harry's into you."

Draco just increased his glower, refusing to be swayed by flattery. And he wasn't cute, he was handsome. How did she know about their relationship? Panic began to bloom in his chest. Who else knew?

Ginny must have seen his panicked look, because she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Draco, relax. I'm the only one who knows."

"Why would he tell you?" Draco demanded, relieved. "You're his ex. Why are you guys on speaking terms?"

"We broke up because he's gay, not because we hated each other. And I'm one of his best mates. Who else is he going to talk to? My brother is emotionally challenged and Hermione's out of the picture now that the N.E.W.T.s are coming up."

Draco fidgeted, feeling uncomfortable. He began to walk again, although she quickly caught up to him. "So," she started again, "Isn't there something you want to talk to me about?"

"No!" he said, shortly. "It's none of your business anyways what Harry and I are doing."

This time she was the one who stopped, and she pointed her wand threateningly at his chest. He remembered all too well from fifth year how good her bat bogey hex was. "It's entirely my business," she said cheerfully. "I still care about Harry and if you hurt him, I'll kill you."

Somehow he believed her. Why had he never paid any attention to the youngest redheaded Weasley? She was terrifying. He tried to keep his voice cool, but it quivered a little bit – whether with fear or respect he wasn't entirely sure. "I believe you."

Ginny dropped her wand. "But I still don't have anything to talk about with you," Draco insisted.

She shrugged. "I don't believe you. Harry's always talking about his relationship with you, and I can't imagine that you aren't just as confused as he is."

This piqued Draco's interest. "Harry talks about me?" He wasn't sure if this made him happy or not.

Ginny grinned. "All the time."

And finally, more because he desperately needed someone to talk to than because he trusted Ginny, he spilled out all of his problems to her.

She was a good listener, and waited patiently until he was done to give him her advice.

"Well," she said, after he had stopped talking. "I wouldn't worry about being jealous. He's utterly besotted with you and the only reason he doesn't seek you out is because he thinks that you don't want him to. And as for everything else... Draco, you need to figure out what it is you want. Wanting a real relationship, with flowers and talking and handholding and more than just kissing doesn't make you a girl. If that's what you want, then you should talk to Harry. Or you could just keep going the way you are, a relationship based on snogging." She stopped again and looked at him. "But it doesn't seem to me that you're too happy this way."

He frowned at her. "That's your advice? To figure out what I want? What do you think I've been trying to do?"

She just shrugged. "You're in denial. You've got to be truthful to yourself about what you want. And besides, Harry's patient, but he's not going to wait forever, especially if you're both unhappy."

Draco knew she was right, but he didn't want to admit it.

"Whatever, Weasley."

"You're welcome, Malfoy."

_...I just want your kiss boy, kiss boy, kiss boy  
>I just want your kiss<br>I just want your kiss boy, kiss boy, kiss boy  
>I just want your kiss...<em>

It took Draco a week to finally come to a conclusion about what he wanted, and in the end the only reason he decided was because of the utter emptiness of the recent exchanges between him and Harry. Maybe that was what he had wanted in the beginning, but it wasn't anymore. And even if it _had_ been all he wanted, then having already satiated his desire for Harry he should have been able to move on. But the idea of giving up Harry put Draco into despair, and he knew he'd never be able to do it. Despite himself and all his efforts, he cared about Harry too much.

He had been thinking about it for a week or so since he and Ginny had talked, and even though when he and Harry met up again he hadn't come to any conclusions he still decided he had to say something after realizing they had barely said two words to each other all evening.

"Harry," he said, tentatively. They were sitting on the couch, and Harry stopped his attentions to Draco's mouth and looked up. He saw Draco's serious face and moved his hand away from his face.

Draco could tell that Harry was pleased at his use of his first name but he was trying not to smile. For the first time for weeks Draco remembered how cute Harry was, and how very green his eyes were. It was almost as though he hadn't properly looked at Harry for ages, and all of a sudden he was struck by Harry's presence, and his nearness. He felt like hugging Harry, just being near him for the sake of being near him and his warmth – not just for snogging.

So he did.

Harry seemed very bewildered by this random show of affection – especially since the last time he had tried to show Draco affection Draco had freaked out – but he accepted it and hugged Draco back.

"Hey," he said, smiling broadly, a smile Draco hadn't seen for more than a month.

"Hi," said Draco.

"So, you come here often?"

At that, Draco punched him on the shoulder. An un-Malfoy like move, to be sure, but one that Harry deserved.

"Ow!" complained Harry, but he was laughing. "Er, I guess I deserved that."

Both of them fell silent, and Draco could tell that Harry was waiting to see what was going to happen next. Feeling sort of nervous, he cleared his throat, and then said, "Maybe...maybe we could talk a little bit. I feel like I haven't properly talked to you in ages."

Harry gave him a crooked smile, and Draco's heart swelled a little bit. If this was what romance felt like, was it such a bad thing? He still wasn't sure. His nature was battling against his desires. He kept talking so he didn't have to think.

"I know that's my fault, though."

Harry shrugged, and he sat up, pushing up his glasses in an endearing way. "Not really. I mean, we never talked about what we were doing. We just started snogging. I never took the time to tell you that I was falling for you, and maybe if I had none of this mess would have happened." He frowned. "Although maybe it still would have. Draco, do you still feel the same way about our...er... relationship as you did that day?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "I just want to...spend time with you, and be around you, and to kiss you. That's all."

"And I want to hold you – " at this he put his arms around Draco and hugged him tightly, "and never let you go. I want to love you and be around you."

"You want to love me," he repeated quietly. "That's a strong word."

"But is there any difference between what I want and what you want?"

Draco considered this. Perhaps there wasn't a difference after all. Maybe this relationship – this love, even – didn't have to be complicated and full of rules. Maybe it could be simple...maybe he could just let himself fall in love with Harry Potter. "No," he decided, smiling at Harry. "I guess not."

And he leaned forward to lightly kiss Harry on the cheek. Harry captured him and kissed him back passionately until Draco was breathless.

"This doesn't mean that I'm going let you get away with not kissing me properly," insisted Harry.

Draco smirked. "Don't be so cheeky." Then he sighed happily. Harry grinned at him, and then poked his side. "At this rate I'll turn you into a Gryffindor in no time!"

Groaning, Draco rolled his eyes. "Better than being a bloody Hufflepuff, I guess," he said with a laugh. "You know, with your eyes, you'd make a pretty fit Slytherin."

Harry grinned at him. "You'd make a pretty cute Ravenclaw, actually."

Draco considered it, and then shook his head. "Nah. The black wouldn't go well with my complexion."

"Let's agree to disagree."

As an answer, Draco leaned into Harry's waiting arms and kissed him.


End file.
